Nothing—especially our toddler’s 1.5+ years in a private childcare center in Singapore—could have truly prepared us for our adventure in a Danish forest kindergarten. We had heard about it, read articles, but found it hard to believe. No formal teaching? Unstructured play all day? Wouldn’t the children end up lost or bored? Or if all that playing was somehow “educational,” wouldn’t it be a waste of valuable playtime?
The transition was our first culture shock, a significant adjustment as we swapped structured learning for an unexpected escapade in nature, with twigs in pockets, mud on pants, and sand in hair.
Are You Alright With That?
It was a windy end-of-summer day in 2013 when we headed to the Placement Guide—Pladsanvisningen—a government agency managing the enrollment lists for Copenhagen’s public kindergartens. Preschool spots are assigned based on seniority on the waiting lists, with sibling preference complicating the otherwise straightforward process.
Each child can select up to three public kindergartens in their area. We chose lovely ones with ample playground space, knowing they would be popular and have waitlists extending into the next summer. However, a spot was immediately available at a kindergarten called Minislottet. We gasped in anticipation.
“Are you OK with that?” the agency representative inquired.
What did she mean? We exchanged puzzled looks but nodded and smiled. Once outside, I glanced at the school address on our registration form and googled it. What?! Minislottet was 50 minutes from central Copenhagen! Had there been a misunderstanding? When we finally returned home, we painstakingly google-translated the registration form, discovering additional oddities. There was a collection point (Opsamlingen) 20 minutes from our home, and a number to call.
We were instructed to arrive at the collection point the next morning before 8:30 am. My heart sank when we entered the room. It was a large, nondescript space. Children were scattered about, some playing with building toys, others drawing or coloring. The usual morning chaos ensued—children running, parents reminding them to use the restroom.
A pedagogue named Mia approached us. In Denmark, “pedagogues” are the primary caregivers in nurseries. After introductions, she explained, “The bus picks us up at 8:40 and returns around 4 in the afternoon. We close at 5, so please arrive as early as you can.” She smiled widely. Soon after, the children were instructed to line up.
I held Lucy’s hand tightly, unsure who was more anxious. As we exited the room, a bus awaited, and a stream of 3- to 5-year-olds placed their bags in the luggage compartment before climbing aboard. Head pedagogue Olivia greeted each child and checked names off a list. I noticed a young assistant ensuring the children’s seatbelts were fastened.
“Welcome to Minislottet! You and Lucy can sit at the back today, but she will have a designated seat later. All children have assigned seats to maintain order!” Olivia laughed as she shook Lucy’s hand.
As I settled into the back, I looked out the window to see parents waving goodbye and blowing kisses. They continued this ritual as the bus pulled away, a new part of my daily routine.
Once on the highway, Olivia welcomed the children over the PA system and introduced the day’s activities. After her announcement, she played sing-along music and stories. An hour later, the bus entered a clearing and stopped. Excitement filled the air. The children, once quiet, erupted with energy as they rushed off the bus and through a set of gates.
I couldn’t quite grasp the idea of Lucy attending a kindergarten an hour away, and then returning home every day. Why would any parent choose this? In Singapore, we were lucky to have a childcare center just 10 minutes away!
Welcome to Minislottet
Forest preschools in Copenhagen fall under three categories: udflytterbørnehave, skovbus, and rumlepotte, differing in the frequency and nature of excursions into the woods. Minislottet is an udflytterbørnehave—an “outlying kindergarten in an environment with ample fresh air.” It was no castle, but rather a charmingly converted farmhouse amidst the forest, with the coast nearby. As I stepped into the back garden, the real treasure was revealed: Minislottet’s backyard was a mini-forest!
There was a little area where the 24 children stored their bags, some changing into boots before dashing outside. I almost shouted, “Be careful! Don’t run!” but quickly realized that adult supervision was minimal. Minislottet was alive: children were laughing, playing, jumping on logs, climbing trees, digging in the dirt, and rustling in the bushes. I was amazed.
No Teaching, Just Playing
At Minislottet, children could play freely, whenever and however they wanted. Inside the farmhouse, there was a room for napping, but Olivia noted, “They don’t nap because every moment is precious for playing outside. However, they can if they wish.”
Throughout the day, pedagogues and assistants occasionally organized activities like storytelling, drawing, and Hama beading. Various craft materials were available for those interested. No activity was mandatory.
“There are only two times the children need to pay attention: during snack and lunchtime, and when it’s time to return to the bus. We don’t want to leave anyone behind!” Olivia chuckled.
Lunch was a cold—literally—affair. Sugar-free and organic, it consisted of rye bread with cheese, peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, and liver paste. I stuck to nibbling my organic crispbread. After lunch, it was music and dance, with no adherence to the usual rule of letting the stomach rest. Instead of the Danish alphabet song or The Eensy Weensy Spider, the kids danced to “Livin’ La Vida Loca” and “Murder on the Dance Floor.”
While many kindergartens emphasize play, Danish ones elevate the concept. The focus is on free play. Adults at Minislottet were present yet hands-off, allowing children to decide how to spend their time. If they were bored, Olivia encouraged it, as boredom often leads to new play ideas.
To those accustomed to traditional education methods (like myself), this didn’t seem like a rigorous program. I asked Olivia about the curriculum, expecting a timetable.
“Oh, no, no, don’t worry,” she reassured me. “There is no teaching in Danish kindergartens. We prioritize play.”
Outdoor Risky Play
A defining feature of Danish forest kindergartens is that children spend all day outdoors, regardless of weather conditions—rain, sleet, wind, snow, or shine. The Danish saying, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing,” epitomizes this philosophy. This was foreign to me; back in Singapore, any hint of rain resulted in an immediate “Let’s go inside!”
Contrast this with a conversation I had with Lucy a few weeks into her time at Minislottet:
“Oh no, was it raining heavily today? Did you stay outside again?”
“Yessss! It was sooo fun!! We splashed in muddy puddles!!!”
(While it was not “sooo fun” washing her clothes that weekend, it became a daily ritual. She would come home with boots full of sand, pockets stuffed with leaves, and bags filled with stones—I’ll save that tale of woe for another time.)
We know that outdoor play benefits children: it enhances concentration, creativity, and mobility. It also fosters social skills, as playing outside encourages interaction with peers. Simply put, outdoor play makes children happier.
Outdoor play is seen as a natural form of risky play, allowing children to interact with their environment. Watching Lucy and her friends explore Minislottet, I understood why parents embraced the two-hour bus journey. It nurtured their thirst for adventure, freedom, and independence.
With risky play encouraged, minor injuries were common. Lucy often returned home with tiny scratches and bruises. However, Olivia explained they differentiate between minor bumps and serious injuries. Bruises were normal; broken bones were not.
As much as possible, pedagogues refrained from saying “No, don’t do that.” They avoided overcorrecting or intervening in tasks children struggled with, and they didn’t barricade off dangerous areas. The philosophy guiding Danish childcare emphasized freedom and independence. They aimed to help children recognize risks and navigate situations safely.
Whether it was balancing on mossy rocks, jumping over fallen trees, or even helping to start a bonfire (a big hit), risky play allowed children to assess their limits and challenge themselves.
The Balance of Education and Play
Despite safety concerns, Danish forest kindergartens face scrutiny regarding their academic significance. Shouldn’t preschools prepare children for formal education? In the early months, my mom would often ask, “If Lucy is just playing outside all day… what about her learning?”
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Summary
In summary, my daughter’s experience at a Danish forest kindergarten has opened our eyes to the benefits of unstructured, outdoor play. The focus on freedom, exploration, and independence has not only nurtured her creativity but also instilled a sense of adventure. While the approach may raise questions about academic preparation, the holistic development fostered in this unique environment is invaluable.
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